The Blind Leading the Blind
by SesshyLover132
Summary: OFFICIALLY CONTINUED.Draco was blinded in a tragic accident and is determined to find a cure. When Harry finds out he could have been the cause,he vows to help the former Slytherin gain his sight back no matter what. Will he thaw his frozen heart as well?
1. Preview

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters they belong to J.K. Rowling. **

My skin tingles and I shiver, erupting hundreds of tiny goose bumps to rise up on my arms. A bump to my shoulder sends my precious tombs crashing to the streets below. Panicking slightly-these texts are ancient and frail-, I quickly kneel and gather the books as best as I can.

"What are you blind? Watch where you're going, Malfoy!" A voice sneers from in front of me -I think- and I flinch inwardly. On the outside, I've composed my face into my trademark Malfoy sneer.

"What's it to you, four-eyes?" I snidely reply, using the memories from my days at Hogwarts.

When I don't hear a reply, I smirk, feeling triumphant, and inconspicuously run my fingers over my belongings. One, two, three…where is my fourth book?

Suddenly, something is shoved harshly into my chest and I fumble to catch it. It falls to the ground with a loud thump and inwardly, I sigh, grateful at least that it landed on the outer cover and not the delicate pages.

"What happened to those quidditch reflexes, ferret?"

Hatred bubbled up inside me, burning through my veins like liquid fire. Weasel. Of course he would be with Potty.

"Oh, Weasel, I see you're still glued to Saint Potty's hip. Is it nice to walk around like conjoined twins?" I sneered, glad for my quick wit and cover up.

**So, should I continue it? **


	2. One Is Blind

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters they belong to J.K. Rowling. **

My skin tingles and I shiver, erupting hundreds of tiny goose bumps along my arms. A bump to my shoulder sends my precious tombs crashing to the streets below and I panic inwardly. I quickly kneel and gather the frail books as best as I can.

"What are you blind? Watch where you're going, Malfoy!" A voice sneers from in front of me and I grind my teeth in frustration. On the outside, I've composed my face into my trademark Malfoy sneer.

"What's it to you, four-eyes?" I snidely reply, using the memories from my days at Hogwarts.

When I don't hear a reply, I smirk, feeling triumphant, and inconspicuously run my fingers over my belongings. One, two, three…where is my fourth book?

Suddenly, something is shoved harshly into my chest and I fumble to catch it. It tumbles to the dirty ground with a loud thump and I very nearly sigh, grateful at least that it landed on the outer cover and not the delicate pages.

"What happened to those quidditch reflexes, ferret?"

Hatred bubbles up inside me, burning through my veins like liquid fire. Weasel. Of course he would be with Potty.

"Oh, Weasel, I see you're still glued to Saint Potty's hip. Is it nice to walk around like conjoined twins?" I sneer, glad for my quick wit and cover up.

I hear a humored snort from beside me and my smirk widens.

"Well put, Draco." Somewhat nasally, Pansy's voice is definitely recognizable. I feel a hand wrap gently around my bicep and I flex it, my unspoken request for help.

"So this is what's taken you so long? Come on, Draco, we were supposed to have left ten minutes ago." She tightens her hand on my arm and, with a loud crack, apparates us away.

I struggle slightly to remain calm and try to tame the sick feeling in my stomach.

Ever since the loss of my sight, apparition makes me more than a little queasy.

The hand on my arm tightens again and I feel another grasp my other bicep in an attempt to steady me.

"I'm fine now, Pans. You can let go." I mutter bitterly, sickened at my own show of weakness. Pansy sighs, but doesn't release me. Instead, I feel two bony arms wrap around my chest. Falling into the warmth -as undignified as it sounds-, I give in and accept her comfort. It isn't often that she offers it and it is even less often that I allow myself to take it.

"Whatever they said that upset you, Drake, they'll regret it sooner rather than later." Pansy whispers darkly in my ear. I chuckle at her vengefulness and pull back from her hug, a renewed smirk on my lips. "I know, Pans." I can practically sense the sinister grin that only the former Slytherin could have.

Pansy releases me and tugs me across the room. I'm pulled harshly down onto a lush sofa and realize suddenly that we aren't at the manor, but at Pansy's flat. She takes the books from my hands and flips one open. The old paper causes a new smell to fill the air and I breathe it in. "Now, down to business, Draco. Are these the books you wanted me to look through?"

I hum in agreement and try to hide the bitterness rising within me. Without the help of Pansy, I would never have been able to get so far with my research. After I lost my sight, I fell into a crippling depression. The worries of my friends and parents were all but non-existent to me and I refused to leave the confinement of my room. I was furious at myself for being so vulnerable and I hated not only how I was affected by my blindness but also how I was blinded.

It took months of coaxing from Pansy and my mother to convince me to come out of my room. After that, I wandered the manor in a kind of daze. Then, six months ago, that all changed with one enraged outburst from Pansy.

"_So, you're going to waste your life away just because you can't see? Oh, you poor thing! There are many- many Draco!- people who can't see that actually do something with their lives! You are a Malfoy! As well as the ice prince of Slytherin! And here you are acting like a first year Hufflepuff! You're horrified about being vulnerable because you lost your sight? Well, get off your lazy arse and do something about it!" _

I was speechless back then at the reality of what I was doing. I - a bloody Malfoy for Merlin's sake!- was wallowing in a well of self pity and it was getting me absolutely bloody no where. I hardened my resolve and began researching a potential potion to cure, or at least aid, blindness. Pansy does the reading and gathers the ingredients for me. She has become a valuable partner and unforgettable friend in the past few years with me. I don't really quite know where I would be right now if it wasn't for her and mother. It also helps quite a bit that she was a wiz at potions in school and can actively help without driving me bloody barmy with simple mistakes.

Currently, we are working on one of the hardest and most dangerous parts of the potion. One of the ingredients is incredibly rare and I am at my wit's end trying to find it. These books are ancient Malfoy potion records from our vault in Gringotts. I'm hoping that they will hold at least a hint to where to find the ingredient we so desperately need.

"Well, I guess we should get started then, hmm?" Pansy is already flipping through one of the vast texts. I can hear the slight sound every time she flicks through one of the pages. I reach to my right and search for one of the enchanted quills kept there.

"A little more to the left, Drake." Pansy quips, giving me a slight nudge in the right direction while making me feel at least a little competent. In the beginning, right after I snapped out of my daze, she and mother hovered over me like over protective hens. They were constantly doing everything for me and not allowing me any freedom at all. I eventually lashed out at them, explaining in a less than elegant way that they were the ones that had convinced me to get off my 'lazy arse' and do something. I snapped at them that I couldn't do any bloody thing because they were always doing it for me and asked that I should at least be allowed the simple luxury of being semi-independent.

I find one of the quills and a roll of parchment and smirk at my triumph. Pansy giggles beside me, more than likely making fun of me. I growl, only slightly aggravated by this. "Oh, ha ha, Pans. You should at least let me have a little bit of a triumph."

Pansy laughs and I hear another page flip. "Sure, sure, Drake. I'm very proud of you for finding that quill and parchment."

I lean back into the sofa and pout, then pull out my wand and tap the quill twice. It springs to life in my hand and readies itself to record. I clear my throat and unroll the parchment, ready to begin.

"Twenty-Seventh of September. Pansy and I have taken a few old tomes from the Malfoy vault in hopes of finding our most dangerous and needed ingredient…."

**Officially continued. I apologize for taking so long in writing the first official chapter for this. I hope that everyone enjoyed and that they will continue to read and review!**


	3. The Other Blinded

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters they belong to J. K. Rowling. **

"Draco…Drake."

"Go'way." I mumble, smacking blindly -hah!- at who I knew to be Pansy. She huffs from above me and keeps up her persistent shaking.

"You have to get up, Draco!" She screeches, her voice scratchy from sleep. I groan and cover my sensitive ears. That bloody hurt.

"Fine, damn it, fine. I'm up." I gesture wildly in defeat. Pansy snickers and hops up from her spot on the bed. The springs in the mattress squeak loudly from the bounce and I wince.

I am incredibly tired. Pansy and I spent the last two days with hardly any rest, completely absorbed in our work. We'd found that the tomes from the Malfoy fault were encrypted and had spent much of our time simply trying to decipher the bloody things.

"I've got the house elves cooking breakfast. It should be ready soon." She's moving about while she's talking. Most likely searching through her many wardrobes in search of an outfit for the day.

"What are they making?" I sit up, the idea of breakfast encouraging me. Pansy giggles, amused by my enthusiasm, then hums. "I'm not sure, actually. Does it really matter?"

My stomach grumbles loudly and I chuckle slightly. "I suppose not."

"Black, blue, or green?" Pansy asks, passing me several shirts. I run my fingers over the materials. Silk, silk, and Egyptian cotton. Pansy must have finished with her outfit and moved on to mine.

"Depends, how's my hair looking today?" I use one hand to run through my blonde locks.

"A bit ruffled, nothing that a good shower won't cure." She laughs.

"Definitely blue then." I grin, allowing her to grab the other two shirts. "What about trousers?"

"The cotton black ones?" She quips, moving away and back to one of the wardrobes.

"That's fine, as long as they've been pressed." I grin again when Pansy laughs. I think she finds it funny that I'm still so vain.

I stand up, grab the offered clothes and head to the bathroom.

-change-

Half an hour later, I'm showered, dressed, and tucking into a lovely smelling meal of French toast when Dipsky pops into the room.

I always know when Dipsky appears because she's one of the few house elves that have taken to announcing their appearance for my benefit.

"What is it Dipsky?" I ask, placing my fork and knife carefully back onto the plate.

"Mistress Narcissa tells Dipsky to delivers Master Draco's letter quickly, sirs." The tiny house elf squeaked, placing the letter into my outstretch palm.

"What's so urgent about this letter, Dipsky?" Pansy inquires, her chair scraping slightly against the floor as she stands.

"I's no idea, Mistress Pansy. I's only following Mistress Narcissa's orders."

I sigh, leave it to my mother to be in such a frazzled state. "Alright, Dipsky. You've followed your orders, you may return to the manor now."

"Thanks you, Master Draco." With a loud crack, she's gone.

"Well, Pans, here you go." I hand the letter over, my curiosity peaked.

I hear the envelope tearing and wait somewhat patiently for Pansy to read through it. A few moments later, I hear a quiet gasp. "What is it?" I'm a little frightened these days when it comes to letters.

"Well…it'll be best if I just read the letter, I suppose." She clears her throat. "_Dear Malfoy. I've been forced by Hermione to write this letter to you, as she thinks that we should settle our old quarrel. She tells me that you've changed quite a bit since the last time I saw you. Ha! I suppose she doesn't realize that I saw you only a few days ago in Diagon Alley. You're the same slimy git that you were in school, nothing's changed. But, anyway, I'm supposed to invite you out to lunch and see if we can get along well at all. So, what about the Three Broomsticks this Wednesday? We could meet around noon, if that's convenient for you. _

_Unkind regards, _

_Harry James Potter_"

By the end of the letter, I'm sitting stock still, my hands clenched tightly onto the arms of the antique wooden chair in the dining room.

"Well," Pansy huffs, "He's not very polite about anything, is he?" I'm entirely too grateful that she lets my current tension slide. Not even she knows why I've grown to fear Potter so much.

I snort without much effort, and only because it seems the appropriate reaction. "He never was one for eloquence."

"So, are you going to go?" Straightforward and blunt, that's one of the things I love and hate about Pansy.

"I suppose I don't have a choice do I? If I don't go there could be all sorts of scandals about denying the Chosen One his wishes."

Pansy snorts a laugh and claps her hands for a house elf. "All too true. Are you done with your breakfast, Drake?"

"Quite done." I reply, my stomach twisting now at the very thought of food.

The food vanishes with only a slight hum and a few clanks. "I think I might go home for a while, Pans."

She strides over to me, her footsteps muffled by the thick Persian rug beneath our feet. "I figured you might." She grips my shoulder tightly and I nod, letting her know that I understand. She's trying her best to comfort and help me.

"Do you want to meet up Wednesday evening to go shopping in Diagon Alley?"

Pansy squeals, excited because she knows that it's only a cover up so that I can escape from Potter as soon as possible and tell her all the horrors of the lunch. "Of course, Draco!"

I chuckle slightly and stride the six steps to the large fireplace in the lounge opposite the dining room. "Wednesday, it is then." I feel slightly for the bag of floo powder on the mantel and step into the soot-smelling place. "Malfoy Manor!" The flames of the floo engulf me, surrounding me with a buzzing roar.

-change-

I spend the next few days distracting myself in any way that I can. I spend hours simply walking the manor and the gardens behind, committing the amount of steps it takes to reach places into my memory.

My mother is absolutely thrilled that Potter has asked to meet up. She's taken a liking to him ever since he testified for her in court. I wonder sometimes if she would like him so much if she knew the truth about what he did.

I don't bother to tell my father about the lunch, he would more than likely protest against it. I suppose I can't blame him for that, after all, Potter is the one that basically shattered his entire world.

The days that pass are uneventful and I soon find myself debating between a green silk button up with silver accents or a dark purple one with black accents. It's Wednesday morning, about eleven-thirty. I've been so anxious that I even went so far as to skip breakfast.

Dipsky is beside me, telling me the details of the shirts. Eventually, I decide on the green button up, simply because it will get on Potter's nerves the most. Slytherin colors and all you know.

"You may leave now, Dipsky." I quiet the house elf's protests when she insists that she should also help me dress.

I run a comb through my hair and use a small amount of gel to accent the ends. The enchanted mirror near my wardrobe helps with the styling.

"A little more twist on your right, blondie." It giggles, undoubtedly pleased that it can help so much. I huff, annoyed again that I can't see what I'm bloody doing, and twist the hair slightly.

"Perfect! Not a touch more, darling!" The mirror shrieks.

I huff again and wash the gel from my hands. Enchanted mirrors were so easily excited, honestly.

A knock on my door announces the arrival of my mother.

"Yes, mother?"

She opens the door slowly, I can tell because of the lack of wind and slight creaking when the door is opened quickly. "It's quite strange that you can always tell when it's me, darling."

I chuckle, pleased at my accomplishment. "I can always tell because of your footsteps, mother. You walk like a dancer." I smile when my mother laughs, a quite tinkling noise.

"Oh, you flatter your mother darling. You know I haven't danced in ages." She joins me on my large, soft bed. She takes my large hand into her much smaller one and squeezes in encouragement. "I just wanted to wish you a good day and good luck, my darling."

I smile again and lean sideways to kiss her cheek. She laughs again and meets me, tilting her head slightly when I angle wrong and nearly kiss her hair.

"Thank you, mother." I stand up and straighten my clothes. "How do I look?"

"Dashing as always, Draco." She says, standing up as well and leading me through the large, mahogany doors.

-change-

The Three Broomsticks is nearly full when I enter. People are chatting loudly, meeting others, and generally just being noisy. I sigh inaudibly and stop in front of what I hope is the counter.

"Malfoy, over here!" I hear someone call, saving me the trouble of asking for directions from the bartender.

I slowly make my way to the back of the pub, trying to appear casual. Potter mumbles something quietly to himself, giving me the extra little bit of noise I needed to find him. The sound around us has calmed slightly and I'm torn between slight gratitude and feeling insulted that Potter chose a table so far in the back.

I settle into a chair opposite him and wait. And wait. Finally, after several moments of prolonged, tense silence, Potter clears his throat.

"So, uh, I didn't actually think you'd show." He says, and I realize that his voice is slightly deeper than it was in school.

"Well, yes. What choice did I have? My mother's just as much in love with you as everyone else these days."

"Your mother?" Potter sounds confused. I can almost see his eyebrows scrunching up in confusion.

"Yes, she's taken quite a liking to you, Potter, and I can't really let her down now, can I ?" I huff, irritated, and cross my arms over my chest.

Potter lapses into another tense silence.

"I suppose it's because I testified for her?" He says, trying to keep the conversation at a safe level no doubt.

"No, Potter, it's because she saw you in Play Witch last month and she's gone absolutely barmy for you." I reply dryly.

Potter chokes on the butterbeer he's just received and I chuckle darkly. Good, maybe the git will choke to death. He recovers after a fit of coughing and attempts to gather a comeback. "I suppose she bought March's issue then?"

This time, it's me who chokes. I feel the butterbeer traveling up and through my nose, setting the appendage on fire.

"Just messing with you, Malfoy." Potter manages between his ruckus laughter.

It takes me several minutes to collect myself and by then, Potter is ordering his lunch. The server fauns over him, calling him sweetheart and sugar. Potter either doesn't notice or doesn't care to point it out because he continues ordering as if the girl isn't tripping over herself in an attempt to get his attention.

"And for you?" She finally finishes, I can hear the thick layer of disappointment in her voice.

"Just the fish and chips will do. No tartar sauce, please." I reply politely, trying my hardest to stifle my laughter.

Potter snorts with laughter from across the table. I quirk my eyebrow. "Something funny, Potter?"

"Oh, nothing Malfoy." He claims as the girl walks away to put in our order.

I wish I could see just so that I could glare at him for his stupidity. Silence once again descends upon us. This time, it's me who breaks it.

"Why did Granger really send you, the Gryffindor golden boy, to dine with a snake?" I ask, unconsciously fiddling with the napkin in my lap.

"It's just like I said in the letter. She wants us to make amends and settle our differences, blah blah blah. She's been a little crazy since she's been pregnant."

"Granger's pregnant?" With Weasley span no doubt.

"Sure is, she's seventh months along, too."

"Well, then, send my congratulations." I say, sarcastically. Potter doesn't seem to notice and agrees to pass on the message.

Our food arrives and we tuck in, settling into a slightly more comfortable silence. I'm being very careful with my food, using only the slightest amount of ketchup for my chips because I don't want to get it everywhere and even cutting my fish as I go.

"Why are you eating like that?" Potter asks, rudely around a mouthful of food. It's muffled and I can practically feel the spittle flying out.

"Like what, Potter? Do you mean with manners?" I swallow another bite of fish and carefully dip a chip into ketchup.

"No, I mean…you're just being really careful. Like you can't see what you're doing or something." I quirk my eyebrow again. Surely, he wasn't so naïve that he hasn't noticed my blindness yet. I know I'm quite good at hiding it, but I'm not _that _good. Not yet anyway.

"That's because I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't?" Potter splutters, obviously confused.

"I'm blind, Potter." This time I wish that I could see the look on his face, from the stunned silence I can tell that it would be brilliant.

"You're blind?" Potter sounds flabbergasted.

"Well, duh, Potter." I feel the air swish as he shakes his hand in front of my face.

"You really are…" I hear him whisper quietly. I snort and lean back slightly in my chair, my appetite all but gone.

"How'd it happen?" He asks, his voice still quiet. My throat tightens and I lick my suddenly dry lips.

"That's none of your business, Potty." I hiss, venom dripping from my voice. Potter jerks back, insulted.

"I was only asking, Malfoy. There's no reason to be a git about it." He sneers, bolting up from the table hurriedly. "Things seemed like they were going okay, then you had to just go and ruin it, didn't you?"

I snarl, pissed. "And what about you? Who the hell asks someone why they're blind?"

Potter huffs, having no answer, and I hear a few galleons clatter onto the wooden table. He storms off right after. I clench my fists, angry. At Potter, at the unfairness, at myself. Potty wouldn't be so saint like if he knew the truth.

I drop a few galleons of my own onto the table and leave as quickly as I can.

**Geez, my arm's sore. I've spent the whole day painting my room. It's finished, but now I'm tired. How do all of you think this story is going? Any suggestions? Thanks,**

**-SesshyLover132**


	4. So They Work Together

**Disclaimer: I do not own these characters they belong to J. K. Rowling. **

"Draco? What happened?" Pansy's worried voice drifts over to me. I shake my head. I can still feel the anger coursing through me, like white-hot lava in my veins. Damn Potter and his ever-increasing gitness.

How dare he? I admitted to him my ultimate weakness and then he insulted me! Me! What force gave him the right to do such a thing?

After what he did…

"Drake…" Pansy breaks me away from my train of thought and I shake my head again. I unclench my fists and rub the sensitive tips of my fingers over each palm. I must have clenched them far more tightly than I thought, I'd left small crescent moon shapes on the tender skin.

"Let's talk about it later, Pans." I huff through my clenched teeth as I pass by the familiar noises of the leaky cauldron. "Sure, sure." She threads her arm through mine and tugs me sharply to the right.

"You almost hit that lamp post, Drake." Pansy sighs, exasperated. I huff, feeling particularly stubborn at the moment and purse my lips, indicating that I would not speak until we reached the shops.

Pansy sneers-I can tell because of this hissing noise she makes when ever she does- and quickens her pace. She is eager, I suppose, to find out the outcome of my disastrous meal with the Golden Boy.

"We're here, Drake." She says, just as her arm releases mine. I hear the tinkling of a bell in front of me as she pushs open the door and smile as I inhale. I would recognize that powerful perfume anywhere. It was my mother's favorite brand after all. "Twilfitt and Tatting's*?"

Pansy laughs happily, "I knew you'd enjoy it."

I suppress another small grin as we enter the store. The smell of the perfume grows stronger and Pansy stops briefly. I hear the rustling of fabrics and assume that she has stopped to browse through one of the small selections of clothing.

"Pansy darling! Draco dearest!" A loud, albeit pleasant, voice shouts.

"Daphne!" Pansy squeals with delight and dashes from my side. Daphne erupts into a fit of giggles and rushes to give me a hug as well. I pat the shorter girl's back in acknowledgment and allow the hug for a moment.

I drift off farther into the store to allow them a moment to catch up. After several minutes, Pansy joins me, chattering about how Daphne was interning under the _Madame _of the store and how she had to go because she needed to meet someone for a late lunch. I nodd politely to ever word and do my best to feign interest.

"…but now I want to know all about you lunch date with Saint Potter." She finishes and grasps my shoulder expectantly. I sigh, a hefty thing that shakes my shoulders, and hide my grimace. "It was about as horrible as I expected. Potter is the same presumptuous git he was in school, nothing's changed."

Pansy doesn't speak and instead quiets me for a moment as she pays for her newfound clothes. The bells tinkles again as we leave the clothing store and I suddenly miss the aromatic room, it comforted me, if only slightly. She leds me through the Alley and around the corner to another shop.

Soft noises, like pages flipping in a book, and small gusts of air rushing by my head tell me where we are. "Florish and Blott's, I presume?" I quirk an eyebrow as another particularly strong gust of air flys by my face. Pansy makes a small noise of agreement and leads me farther into the shop, back into the more expensive and rare volumes and tomes.

"I want to look for something mentioned in one of the tomes from your vault, Drake." She whispers, "Hopefully, they'll at least have a copy of the bloody thing." I nod my head and wait silently to continue my tale.

We drift farther still into the store and, slowly, the noises of the people around us fade to a much more tolerable volume. I faintly hear the flick of a wand and a muttered incantation as Pansy casts a privacy spell.

"There now, they won't be able to tell what we're saying. So, I'll get to hear all about our _dear_ hero and we can find that dratted book all at one time!" Pansy boasts, proudly. I chuckle slightly and restart my tale, all while she searches through the dusty old tomes and replicas.

Pansy hums politely throughout, but otherwise keeps silent. I feel thankful, it feels good to rant about the blasted savior to someone who shares my hatred.

"Well, Drake, I think you both overreacted a bit." She comments at the end of my tale. I gape at her, outraged. Where is my support? The Potter bashing?

"What? Pans, how can you say that?" I hiss, feeling slightly betrayed. Pansy tsks, "Don't be a drama queen, Drake. You know how naïve he is and you still let him rile you up. It's just like it was in school."

I jerk away from her and cross my arms. "I did not let him rile me up."

"Yes, you did. One comment and you're both hurling insults at each other as if we're all seventeen again." She argues, "And don't pout like that! You know that Granger's probably giving Potter the same speech!"

I scowl because she's right and uncross my arms. "Fine." I grumble, "Whatever. Did you at least find that book?"

Pansy sighs, disappointed I think, and grasps my arm. "Unfortunately, no. There's not even a replica." I sigh as well and let her lead me out of the store. Suddenly, I couldn't wait to be home. Today hadn't gone well at all.

-scene-

_Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap. _

I jerk awake, startled at the continuous noise. "What the bloody hell?" I groan inwardly and throw the blankets away. The tapping increases in intensity and I carefully make my way to the window, where it grows louder.

Wrenching the window open, I dodge to the side when something streaks by me, shrieking all the while. "Brilliant." I snap, irritated, and search for the bird. I feel soft feathers under my fingers and carefully untie the note attached to its right leg.

I go to the nightstand beside my bed and grab an owl treat. "Here you are, you blasted bird." I toss it blindly at the bird, who shrieks again-loudly-and somehow manages to catch it. I hear it happily crunching on the treat for a moment, then a faint noise as it flies out the window.

I groan again and run my fingers through my silken blond locks, "Dipsky!"

A loud crack fills the room. "Dipsky is heres, Master Draco."

"Where is my mother, Dipsky?" I quip as I tug on my soft cashmere robe and exit the room. Dipsky hurries to follow, "Mistress Narcissa is in the dinings rooms, Master Draco. Shes is having breakfast, shes is."

I nod and thank the elf, allowing her to go back to her other duties around the manor. It takes me several minutes to make it from my room and into the smaller dining room, where we usually have breakfast when not entertaining guests. A small ache fills my heart, I miss seeing the magnificence of my home with it's large, sweeping staircases and elegant chandeliers.

"Draco? What are you doing up so early, darling?" Mother's voice drifts up from the lengthy table.

"Good morning, mother. Where's father?" I divert her question for a moment.

"He's having a bath in the suite, dear, why?" She questions as I sit in the chair directly to her right. I hand her the letter I've just received. She makes a small sound of acknowledgment and unrolls the parchment.

"_Malfoy, _

_ Look, I'm sorry about what I said yesterday. I told Hermione all about it and she made me realize that I shouldn't have said what I did. She also thinks that I should apologize in person and all that. I sort of agree and I do think that we overreacted a bit. Can we start over? Maybe we can have lunch at the new pub next to Zonko's today at 2:30? _

_Harry Potter _

_P.S. If you haven't figured it out yet-and you very well might not have even noticed- you have to give Ella a treat before she'll leave."_

She finishes the letter and rolls the parchment back up. "Well, dear?" She delicately clears her throat. I swallow nervously, I hadn't even told mother about the first lunch yet and Potter was already inviting me to a second?

"I'm assuming that the last meal didn't go well?" She asks, carefully tying the ribbon around the parchment.

I shake my head, "Hn, Potter was the same as always and_, as always_, we ended up fighting."

Mother sighs and taps the neatly rolled parchment on the polished oak table. "Well? What about meeting him today?"

I shift slightly in my chair and take a moment to think. Would I chance another fight? Potter said that he wanted to apologize, however would he expect an apology from me as well? Could I apologize to him? "I suppose it's worth a try. There's no guarantee that we won't get into another argument, but I'll at least try."

She squeezes my hand and gives me the letter. "That's very good of you, Draco."

I nod and agree to try my hardest to get along with Potter…even if he doesn't deserve it.

-scene-

Mother escorts me to the pub, insisting that she had to do some necessary shopping. I believe she just wants to make sure I actually went to the lunch.

The pub is quiet; the lunch rush has ended and it's far too early for the dinner rush. This time, no one shouts to gain my attention. Instead, a hostess greets me at the door and I'm led back into a small table closer to the kitchen. I can hear one of the cooks yelling about 'bloody wankers' and 'incapable buffoons'. I smirk and order a water and small shot of fire whiskey from the waiter. I'll need the extra bit of relaxation if provides later.

It isn't long before the waiter comes back and I'm comfortable sipping my water by the time Potter arrives. I've already downed my shot of fire whiskey; the effects seem instantaneous, my muscles seem to uncoil and relax and my thoughts slow to a much more manageable pace.

"Ah. I didn't think you'd show, Malfoy." He says, taking the seat opposite me. I hum and mock him, "Perhaps, I wouldn't have if I wasn't afraid of being chased down by the fans of Saint Potty."

Potter scoffs and orders a butter beer and a basket of chips when the waiter returns to our table. I order another shot of fire whiskey and impatiently swirl the melting ice in my water around while we wait.

The silence that reigns is thick and filled with tension. However, I refuse to be the one to break it. Potter invited me to this little party redo and he should be the one to dissolve the awkwardness, either with an apology or….well an apology would suffice.

Potter clears his throat loudly and speaks, "Look, Malfoy, it's just like I said in the letter. I am sorry for what I said, it was rather uncalled for, and I shouldn't have tried to butt into your personal matters. I'm sorry for that. I think we both overreacted a bit yesterday and I was hoping we could start over. Can we?"

He's nearly out of breath when he finishes and I tilt my head, half to think and half to provoke him. Finally, using as much exaggeration and breath as I can muster, I sigh and nod. "Very well, we can start over then."

Except…that's a lie. As long as Potter is in the dark about what he did, I can never truly start over with him. However, it's not entirely his fault that I'm too much of a bloody coward to tell him, so, for the time being, I'll be nice.

The waiter arrives with Potter's food and my fire whiskey and I can practically hear the grin in his voice when he thanks him. My lips twitch into a half hearted smile before I realize what I'm doing. I scowl at my own lack of control and down my shot. The last thing I need is to show any hint of vulnerability.

"Aren't you going a bit fast there, Malfoy?" He asks when I wave the waiter over and order two more shots of fire whiskey. I scoff at him and steer the conversation away. "Yesterday, you said that Granger is pregnant, correct?"

Potter's voice is bright and enthusiastic when he answers, "Yeah, and I also said that she was seven months along." He continues on, telling me about how Granger and the Weasel were married nearly a year and a half ago at a small wedding at the Weasel's family home. I nod politely and take small gulps of my newest shots of fire whiskey.

The topic eventually turns over to quidditch and it isn't long before we're arguing over which team has the better chance at the World Cup this year. The fire whiskey is starting to affect me now. There's a slight buzzing noise in my head and my movements are becoming slow and lethargic. Too terrified of what I would feel with out the fire whiskey's aid, I order another shot and ignore the buzzing.

"Malfoy! Malfoy, are you alright?" I blink, my mind fuzzy as Potter calls out to me. His voice is increasing in volume and agitation and I wave him away.

"I'm fine." I try to claim, only to hiccup soon after. In front of me, Potter begins to laugh. "You are definitely not fine, Malfoy. You're bloody drunk!" He waves down the waiter and asks for the bill. I hear galleons clink against the wooden countertop and the scraping of a chair against the floor. "Potter, what are you doing?" I ask, trying to understand.

"I'm paying our bill and taking you home." He stands and grasps my shoulders to pull me from my chair. "Don't touch me!" I snap and recoil away from him. His hands leave my shoulders in an instant and he huffs. "I don't know what you're problem is, Malfoy! I'm only trying to help."

I scoff, "If it wasn't for you and that bloody lunch, I wouldn't have tried to drown myself in liquor anyway." I sneer at him, but he ignores me and grabs my shoulders again. He succeeds in pulling me from my seat and I waver a little; the fire whiskey has affected my balance. Potter seems to notice and carefully leads me through the pub and out the door.

I want to scream at him; to yell at him not to touch me and most certainly not help me, but I can't. My thoughts are whirring around my head and I can't open my mouth for fear of random slurs spewing forth. Damn fire whiskey.

We're already outside and walking down the street by the time I collect myself enough to speak. "Where're we going, Potter?"

"I'm taking you to my place so that you can floo home, Malfoy." He says as we pass through the Leaky Cauldron and on to the muggle London. I struggle and argue that I'm perfectly capable of apparating myself home. Potter ignores me-again!-and tighten his grip. "Bloody hell, enough, Malfoy! My flat's right here! You'll be home in just a minute!"

He marches us through a door and up two flights of stairs. He takes a moment to fumble for his keys and I increase my struggles. He tightens his grip again and I cringe inwardly; fucking damn him, he's strong.

"Potter, let me go! Damn you!" I struggle again, furious as he opens the door and pushes me inside.

"Malfoy! Damn it, Malfoy! The floo's right there, go!" He curses and releases me. I stumble a few steps and right myself.

"Brilliant, Potter. You're just missing one thing." I sneer at him and cross my arms.

He huffs, sounding frustrated, and I hear a click. He must've turned on the lights. "Oh yeah, and what's that?"

"I can't bloody tell where the fucking floo is, you twat!" I snarl, fucking prat and his bloody ignorance.

"Oh. _Oh._" He seems to realize again my weakness and pauses.

I can practically see him running his hand through the rat's nest he calls hair. He's silent for a moment, as if at a loss of what to do, and then I feel a hand on my arm. I jump and hiss at him, "Bloody idiot! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"I'm just trying to help!" He defends and guides me into the room.

"It's your bloody fault I need help in the first place!" I freeze, realizing what my fire whiskey befuddled brain has churned out.

"What?" He freezes too. "What're you talking about? I mean, I was just making sure that you wouldn't splinch you fucking arm off if you tried to apparate so wh-"

"It's not that, Potter." I cut him off. "Just…just forget it." I move away from him and try to feel around for the fire place. Potter, however, has other plans and whirls me back around to face him.

"No, I won't forget it. What in Merlin's name are you talking about?" He grabs my shoulders again and I think he's trying to look me in the eye, though I can't be sure. That does it, though, and I fucking explode with rage. "What am I talking about you say? I'm bloody fucking talking about this!" I push back my blonde fringe with one hand and use the other to wave uselessly in front of my eyes.

"I'm talking about the reason why I can't see! I'm talking about how it was your bloody fucking fault that I'm like this! About the fact that you're the reason I'm fucking _blind_!" I screech, the rage pumping through me. My palms are sweaty, my breathing is labored, but fucking hell, I feel _good. _A huge load has been lifted off of my chest and I feel light, lighter than I've felt in a long damn time.

Potter is frozen, unmoving as he tries to process what I've just said. He tries to speak, only for his words and sentences to be utterly confusing. "Wha-? How would I..? I can't have-"

"Oh, but you did, Potter." I sigh and feel for a chair, only to collide with what seems to be a love seat. I sit as gracefully as I possibly can and wait for a moment. I hear the creak of springs to the right of me and I turn to face Potter, who I assume has taken a seat.

"Do you remember, oh Saint Potter, the night when the remaining death eaters attacked the ministry?"

"Yeah, 'course I do." He mumbles, "I was there when it happened; the stupid gits thought they could over throw the ministry and take over what Voldemort was doing."

I flinch at the name and clench my fists, "Right. I was there too, did you know that?"

"I..No, I guess I didn't." He sounds irritated now, whether it's at me or himself, though, I can't be sure.

I nod, not surprised in the least, "Well, I was. Two of them had me cornered, sprouting on about how I was 'a god damned traitor' and all that. Next thing I knew, they'd both been stunned and a wayward cutting jinx had shattered one of the statues beside us."

"I don't think you knew it was me. I had my cloak on and my hood up, you see. After all, at the time, being a Malfoy was as bad as being the Dark Lord himself." I shake my head and shudder, trying to rid myself of those memories. "Anyway, I looked up and you were casting spells everywhere, hitting death eaters with charms, stunners, jinxes, and the like….then, you looked at me and you fired two spells. One missed, a stunning jinx I think, but the other…" I clench my fists even tighter and clear my throat, "I didn't even have time to throw up a shield before it hit my eyes. I remember seeing you turn around and keep fighting, then…just pain." I grit my teeth. Potter says nothing, though he makes a strangled sound.

"I woke up in Saint Mungo's about a week later. I was bloody freaked, of course, and started panicking the moment I realized I couldn't see. I screamed and ranted and yelled, I was a bloody mess." I shake my head again and smile grimly. "But, no matter who asked, I never told anyone what really happened, so your hero record is still squeaky clean." I sneer, finally ending my pathetic tale. Suddenly, my mind is no longer befuddled. It seems the fire whiskey has worn off, if only a little bit.

"Malfoy, I-" Somehow, he's already up and in front of me. I shake my head and scramble from my seat as well. "Don't say anything, Potter." I snap at him.

"But, I-" He takes a deep breath, "I'm sorry, so fucking sorry. If I'd have known it was you, I would've…wouldn't have…"

"What Potter? You would've been more careful? You wouldn't have cast the jinx at me? Well, it doesn't bloody matter anymore now, does it?" I'm angry again, so fucking angry.

"Damn it, Malfoy! I would've done something! Anything!" He's angry now, too, then he's calm, or as calm as one can be, I suppose. "What can I do? There has to be something." His voice is riddled with guilt and I feel a small twinge of pity before I force it away.

"There's nothing, Potter." I snarl, "Absolutely nothing." I'm searching for the floo again, this time much harder than before.

"There's got to be something." Potter refuses to give up. "Listen, Malfoy, _please._"

I freeze, when has the great Harry Potter ever said please? "I…" I think of Potter's family then, of how he inherited not only the Black family vault, but also the Potter family one as well.

"There is one thing." I hesitate, but only for a brief moment. "I've been looking for something. A book, or rather an ancient tome. It could, in fact, be in one of vaults a Gringott's you inherited, Potter."

"A book?" Potter asks, curiosity laced in his voice.

I nod, "Yes, it's very important that I have it, you see. Rather, I _need _it."

Potter asks no more questions and, instead, grabs my shoulder again. "Right then, off to Gringott's we go then." He's leading me through the door again, but this time I don't feel nearly the same amount of contempt or rage. In fact, even though I've just confessed my secrets like a wormy little Hufflepuff first year, I'm feeling rather hopeful. If Potter has this book….

I grin slightly, though I'm careful not to allow Potter to see it.

**Well, I feel somewhat proud of myself. Rather than creating a short chapter characterized by only a few, brief pages, I've succeeded in writing a slightly longer chapter. Perhaps, if I keep this up, my readers won't kill me for taking so long to update? Hmm, what do you say? **

**-SesshyLover132**


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